


Re: Frozen in Time

by Fire_and_Soul



Category: Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Oneshot, Spoilers, beware anime-onlies, kinda has romance but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_and_Soul/pseuds/Fire_and_Soul
Summary: The world was frozen. Not covered in snow, or layered with ice–– not that type of frozen. But the world was still. The people of Lugunica, suspended mid-motion, trading, bartering, and bantering within the capitol's narrow, cobblestone streets. The beautiful Emilia, majestic and lovely as ever, frozen in place. But this was not the right Emilia. This was not HIS Emilia.(Warning: Heavy Arc 4, 5, and 6 Spoilers)
Relationships: Natsuki Subaru & Satella, Natsuki Subaru & The Re:Zero Cast
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Re: Frozen in Time

**Author's Note:**

> (Warning: Heavy Arc 4, 5, and 6 Spoilers)
> 
> Note: Takes place sometime vaguely after Arc 6

The world was frozen. Not covered in snow, or layered with ice–– not that type of frozen. But the world was still. The people of Lugunica, suspended mid-motion, trading, bartering, and bantering within the capitol's narrow, cobblestone streets. He moved, drifting between the throngs of humans and demi-humans alike, floating past the stores and sparing only a glance to the familiar, nostalgic appa stand as he roamed idly by.

_ Why am I here? _ He thought, perplexed.  _ Last I remember, I was...  _ He paused.  _ I was dying. I died, didn't I?  _ However, his question received no response. 

It was then that a flash of silver caught his eye. The beautiful Emilia, majestic and lovely as ever, frozen in place as she stared in shock towards a figure of a young, blonde girl sprinting away. 

Had he had a body, he might have reached out to touch her, his very soul aching to hold her hand in his, and to stroke her silky, silvery locks.

But this was not the right Emilia. This was not the Emilia who had stroked his hair as he sobbed into her lap. This was not the Emilia who had told him his love for her made her happy. This was not the Emilia he'd kissed that day in the Sanctuary, not the Emilia he'd cherished each and every moment, not the Emilia he'd lived with, laughed with, and cried with. Without her, he'd have stayed in that alleyway, lost and alone, with those thugs beating him and robbing him blind. Without her, he wouldn't have had a reason to keep going. But this was not  _ his _ Emilia.

His gaze shifted to where Emilia was looking–– Felt, the adolescent girl with blonde hair and crimson eyes alight with triumph as she victoriously clutched at the insignia she'd successfully swiped only seconds ago. But this was not the right Felt. This was not the Felt he'd protected at the Loot House, not the prideful girl who'd shared her ambitions of becoming rich with him, nor the stubborn lady who'd begrudgingly participated in the Royal Selection to save the closest person she had to family. This was not  _ his _ Felt.

On the other side of Lugunica, he saw him. Brilliant cerulean eyes and bright, vermilion hair, his steps halted mid-stride. But this was not the right Reinhard. This was not the Reinhard that had valiantly saved him from the thugs in that alleyway, nor the Reinhard that swooped in to rescue him from his imminent death to Elsa's hands. This was not the Reinhard he'd fought alongside in Priestella, not the Reinhard with whom he had secured the death of Regulus. Without him, the countless deaths he would have faced would be immeasurable. But this was not  _ his  _ Reinhard.

Walking alongside the woman he served, his smooth, lavender hair shining underneath the bright sun, was a man who sparked many conflicting emotions within him, a man he both hated and yet loved. Though the face of a comrade, the associations it carried reminded him every time he saw it of his defeats, his humiliation, how he'd failed and hurt those he loved.

But this was not the Julius he knew. Not the Julius who'd showed him the error of his ways, not the Julius who'd put aside their differences and defeated Betelgeuse alongside him. Not the Julius who had clung to him like a lifeline after Roy Alphard had eaten his Name, not the Julius he'd journeyed with to the watchtower, nor the Julius he'd practically carried down the stairs after the man had gotten his ass handed to him by Reid. Not the Julius he'd called his friend. Without him, he may have never made it through that loop, nor would he have matured to become a person who did not bring those he loved pain. But this was not  _ his  _ Julius.

This was not the Anastasia he knew, whom he'd hired for her help against the Witch Cult, whom he'd met at the Watergate City of Priestella, who'd had her body taken over by the fox-scarf spirit, Echidna. This was not  _ his  _ Anastasia.

He continued to roam, crossing paths with those he'd used to know, a stab of pain shooting through his incorporeal heart with every familiar face. Not  _ his _ Crusch, not  _ his  _ Wilhelm, not  _ his  _ Ferris, not  _ his  _ Al.

He found himself on a grassy plane, watching a group of merchants encircling a campfire, frozen mid-laughter. Among them was a flash of gray hair, his trademark green clothes hanging loosely off of his thin frame.

But this was not the Otto he knew. Not the Otto who'd loyally stuck by him through the events of the Sanctuary, not the Otto he'd relentlessly teased, not the Otto he was proud to call his friend. Without him, he might've betrayed Rem's memory and given up, letting the people of the Sanctuary and Mansion be murdered, over and over and over again, until The Witch of Envy finally let him die. But this was not  _ his  _ Otto.

His surroundings were now that of the Arlam village. But it was not  _ his  _ village. The girl with a red bow tied into her bright orange hair was not  _ his  _ Petra. So he kept moving. He drifted forward, wandering aimlessly till he came to a stop at the Mathers Mansion. But this mansion, he recognized it, he knew it had burned down. So it was not  _ his _ mansion. 

Within its walls, a young woman with rosy hair and piercing, scarlet eyes was halted in the middle of a sweeping motion as she clumsily dusted off a shelf. But this was not the Ram he knew. This was not the Ram who called him Barusu, who teased him with a deadpan face, who fought with him in the forest to save her sister. This was not the Ram who gave her all to help defeat Garfiel in the Sanctuary, nor the Ram who triumphed over Ley Batenkaitos at the Tower of Pleiades. Without her, he'd be lost. But this was not  _ his  _ Ram.

A woman, the mirror image of Ram (but clad in blue), stands behind her sister, waiting patiently so that she can clean up the mess Ram will inevitably make. Yet she doesn't complain, probably continuing to insist that her sister is the greatest, because that's just the type of person she is. Oh, how he longed to hug her, to cup her face in his hands and tell her how much he missed her.

But this was not the Rem he knew. This was not the Rem who'd helped him rescue those children, not the Rem who'd charged into the forest and slaughtered countless Mabeasts just to save him, not the Rem who'd stayed behind in the capitol with him even after he'd driven Emilia away. This was not the Rem who'd convinced him to keep moving, who'd proclaimed him a man who did not give up. This was not the Rem who'd called him her Hero. Without her, he'd have long-since given up on life. But this was not  _ his _ Rem.

In the library, a lonely little girl sits, reading a black book whose pages have perpetually remained blank. Her blond hair fashioned into her trademark drills and the pink butterfly pupils etched onto her azure eyes, she was as adorable as ever.

But this was not the Beatrice he knew. This was not the Beatrice who'd begged him, tears in her eyes, to be her "They," not the Beatrice who'd formed a contract with him and defeated the Great Rabbit with him, hand-in-hand. This was not the Beatrice who, terrified of being alone again, slept by his side. This was not the Beatrice who would follow him to the ends of the world, puffing her cheeks and huffing in faux-displeasure every time he called her cute. Without her, he'd have stood no chance against the Great Rabbit, nor the Mabeasts at the Tower. But this was not  _ his  _ Beako. 

Somewhere, in the middle of the Sanctuary, a blonde boy with a jagged scar crisscrossing his face is frozen mid-swing as he clawed away at yet another tree. But this was not the Garfiel he knew. This was not the Garfiel who fondly revered him as "Captain," nor the Garfiel he'd come to see as a little brother. Without him, he'd have never stood a chance against Elsa. But this was not  _ his _ Garfiel.

Standing in the forest near the Arlam Village was a young girl with blue hair, riding smugly atop a Mabeast. But this was not the Meili he knew. This was not the Meili he'd hand-crafted little plushies for to keep her company in that room, not the Meili who'd protected them from Mabeasts along their journey through the desert, not the Meili who'd given her all to control the Mabeasts that had raged outside the Tower. Without her, they'd all have certainly died horrible deaths to the monsters lurking within the sandy dunes. But this was not  _ his  _ Meili.

Across a deadly sea of sand, a scantily-clad woman with long, braided hair stares longingly out the window of a tower. But this was not the Shaula that he knew. This was not the Shaula that clung to his arm, affectionately proclaiming him to be her Master, the Sage Flugel, nor was she the Shaula who'd smiled as she crumbled away, professing her undying love for him even as she herself died. This was not  _ his  _ Shaula.

Pain pierced through his very soul, threatening to tear it apart.  _ These people... they don't know me. They're not  _ **_ my _ ** _ friends. So then why... why does it hurt so much? _

And then suddenly, as if on cue, his surroundings become no more. There is nothing but darkness now, the whispers of someone near. He turns to the girl shrouded in shadows, a girl that arouses a feeling of intense love within his chest that even he does not understand, as she watches him from afar.  _ Why are you showing me this? _ He would've asked her, if he'd had a mouth.

Yet she seems to understand him nevertheless. "You need to understand," she says, voice echoing around him. "That you were not born in this world, nor were you intended to be in it."

_ But why? _ He wants to protest.  _ Why do I need to know that?  _ Yet he knows that even if she could hear him, her answer would not reach his ears. For his soul was already slipping away, returning once again to the cycle of life and death, slamming back into his body as if it'd never left.

Subaru inhaled sharply as his back jolted ram-rod straight. Dying was an unpleasant feeling, no matter how many times one experienced it. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it. Not that he'd want to.

_ So this is my savepoint, huh?  _ He noted as his amber eyes flickered about the room, desperate to distract himself from the memory of his life being ripped away from him, still fresh in his mind.

Subaru didn't acknowledge the frozen world or the shadow-cloaked world he'd seen. He never did, and he never would, for a very simple reason: he did not remember. He'd had that very same experience, that very same encounter, countless times, and yet his soul never carried those memories with it. He would not remember, and he never would. The Garden of Shadows would not allow him to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it currently 1:30 in the morning? Yes, yes it is.  
> Do I have other fics I committed myself to writing that I've been procrastinating? Yes, yes I do.  
> Did I write this anyway? Yes, yes I did.  
> Do I regret it? No, no I do not.


End file.
